But Who's Counting
by fifthofnovember
Summary: Never underestimate a nerd. Explicit, if the M rating didn't tip you off.


_A/N: It is not necessary to read my previous fic "Identical Opposites" to get the gist of this one, but it would probably help._

* * *

Bruce thought it very uncharacteristic of Tony to just drop it. It was not so much a question of if or if not he would bring it up, but a question of when, how, and how embarrassed Bruce would end up (with an optional "in front of whom") when he did. But, if anyone knew not to go looking for trouble, it was Banner.

Unless Stark wanted _him_ to broach the subject. He clearly wasn't going to, because how? The words that would need to be uttered were not in Bruce's vocabulary. Vulgarity and debauchery was definitely Tony's realm. The problem with that scenario, however, was for every day Banner _didn't_ bring it up, Tony was likely devising a way to _make_ him bring it up, wherein the actual act of bringing it up would be that much worse, but the _not_ bringing it up wasn't the most comfortable thing he had ever not-done either.

It was Stark, 1 – Banner, 0. There was no way for him to win this. And he was driving himself crazy over it. Then driving himself crazier over the fact that he was driving himself crazy in the first place.

Of course, Stark was acting like nothing had happened. Which was also his realm.

"I need to get back into my own realm," Banner muttered to himself in the empty lab, as he fiddled with... what was he supposed to be working on again?

Because really, the larger problem, if he was completely, totally, and unequivocally honest with himself was that he'd liked it (_that's an understatement and you know it_) and at the least opportune times, the memory of exquisite pain of Tony's teeth rasping his neck, the tight heat of Stark's hand wrapped around him and how absolutely _good_ it had made him feel crept up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder and said "Hey, remember me?" He could, and did, tell it to shut up and go away, (and that, obviously, _was_ within his realm), but much like certain other things in his life it… never quite stayed gone.

"Story of my life," he looked up and said to no one in particular, and told the thing to go away again.

Except, as though summoned, it walked in the door, and he could swear it tapped him on the shoulder.

_Why, Dr. Banner, if I didn't know better, I would say that you appear to be losing it. _Thankfully he didn't say that out loud.

Because that would just be playing right into Starks hands (_Pun intended? Oh yes indeed, you're a witty one, aren't you?_) which wouldn't be good at all, considering Stark was standing behind him. Thankfully he actually had tapped him so that was something, anyway.

"I didn't want to startle you."

"It takes a little more than that, Stark. Sorry to disappoint."

"Well excuse me for being polite," Tony jibed past a mouthful of chips.

"Says the man who is, once again, doing my work over my shoulder. Because that's not at all annoying."

"Chip?" Tony held the bag out and made an insistent gesture.

Banner turned away before Stark could see him roll his eyes, though it was not without affection.

"They're really good." He turned the bag toward himself and read the front. "Sea salt and vinegar. Which is better than plain salt, I guess. Fury thought of _everything_. So considerate."

"I don't want a chip."

"Suit yourself," Tony shrugged as he walked around the lab table and hopped up on a stool across from Banner. "You just seemed a little shaky. Thought maybe you were hungry."

_Now does he mean... is he... does he...? Shut up. Relax. Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar. Or a potato chip. _

"I'm fine. Thanks."

"You want me to leave." It wasn't a question.

Banner glanced up and offered a fleeting smile, but said nothing.

"Right. Sorry. I was just bored and...really, on a... what would this be? an aircraft? a ship? of this size, you would think there'd be more to, you know, _do_." He was pacing around the lab, touching and picking up about a million things he didn't need to be touching or picking up.

"You could try working. Just a thought." He raised an eyebrow mischievously.

Tony put his hand on his chest and mock-staggered back toward the door. "Ouch. See, I thought pinning you up against that wall over there would be a lot more fun." He glanced in the general direction he was referencing, adding "What would you do?" as casually as he'd offered a potato chip.

"You really want to find out?" Bruce answered quickly, but in that deadpan I-know-something-you-don't-know tone that appealed to and challenged Tony's intrinsic alpha male self image.

"You're right. Dumb idea. And you're busy so… forget I said anything."

And then, with a pivot on his leading leg, he was gone.

Stark, 2 – Banner, 0

There were fundamental differences between the brains and the brawn on the team; the brawn worked hard and wore themselves out early. The brains worked equally hard, but were chronic insomniacs. When the body remains at rest, something must be in motion in order to counterbalance that which is at rest. Hard to convince the body to rest more when it doesn't need it, when one's mind is the counterweight. Which was why Banner was still in the lab in the wee hours of the morning and Stark was attempting yet again, with some degree of success, to hack into Fury's databases.

But the body which the brain depends on eventually grows weary, and so, Banner, with his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows and his eyes glassy, headed toward his room. He had, for the most part, forgotten about Tony's comment/threat/proposition a few days previous, having chalked it up to Tony being Tony and wanting to make him squirm.

That was until, just as he rounded the corner of the hallway where his room was located, someone grabbed him by the placket of his shirt and shoved – no, almost threw him, really - up against the wall. For the briefest second, he felt another consciousness stir, almost panicked and _then_ almost lost it until he recognized -

"Are you out of your mind, Stark? What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Tony – who was both brains and brawn – flattened his hand against Bruce's chest, wedged one leg in between the both of his and said innocently, "I'm not sure I was ever in my mind. And I'm experimenting. So, that's what you'd do, huh? Interesting."

"Let me go, Tony. You're playing with fire."

"Have we met?" His breath glided over Bruce's skin in an obscene way, promising and dangerous. Tony had leaned forward, his forehead almost touching the wall, throwing half his weight against Banner's body with his hand still pinning him in place, his mouth at the level of the shorter man's ear (_And how perfect is this, what a bonus_) and said, with not just an audible grin, but a leer, "I don't want to overstate the obvious, but you _could_ move me, if you wanted to. Unless you _like_ this."

"I have a suspicion it would be more than just you that got moved."

"I'm not too worried about it." The words were muffled against Bruce's neck, where Tony had already zeroed in on _that_ spot right _there_ that was driving him out of his mind and yes, _yes_, he _did_ like it. He liked it very much. "Because you've been craving this, haven't you?"

Bruce said nothing, but his body had already betrayed his answer; he'd already tilted his head to the side to give Tony better access and widened his stance (_because it was awkward and off balance and Tony's hip bone was digging into his and that was all_).

"You know, Banner," Tony mused, punctuating the other man's name with a bite that made his breath hiss his between his teeth, "if you would just ask for what you need, you might get it a little more often, ever think of that? And you do need this, don't you?" Stark's hand slid down and gripped Bruce through his slacks. "God, I can't even imagine how bad you need it. I barely have to _touch_ you."

"It's the adrenaline."

Stark chuckled deep in his throat. "No it isn't. You can try to reduce it to science and chemicals if it makes you feel better, but we both know you've just been waiting, waiting for weeks, for me to make you take what you want to have anyway. Because you can't look me in the eyes and tell me you want it. And believe me, if there is anyone who knows about pride around here, he just slammed you against the wall."

Tony pressed closer to the other man, forcing his shoulders flat, while he palmed him through his pants. "So tell me…" Stark paused to run his tongue along the other man's jawline. "What do you think about alone in your room at night? Do you hope I'll walk through the door, that you'll wake up at the exact moment I pin your wrists above your head and whisper in your ear? Or maybe you think about knocking on mine – because you'd never just walk in – and standing in my doorway, biting your lip like you don't even know you do when you're turned on… like you are right now."

He had been, and it was true – he hadn't realized it. What was that; another ¼ point in Tony's favor?

"All you have to do is ask," and that last word was so close to Banner's ear he could feel the scratch of Tony's goatee, "and I would do anything you wanted. Did you know that? You could have Tony Stark on his knees right now. Not many people can say that."

"I bet they can't," Banner stammered out, wondering what it was about him that Tony was so fascinated with. His knee jerk reaction was that it was power and pity, but that was just his shame talking. But a man like Stark, a man who didn't _do_ pity, who could have anyone he wanted, couldn't possibly… want him… could he?

"I respect you, you know," Tony continued, this time tracing random patterns along Bruce's inner thigh, slowly, torturously slowly. "I know I couldn't have just one little taste of something I needed so bad I'd forgotten I need it and then just forget about it."

"I… I didn't forget about it."

(_That's it talk to me_)

"But you tried to make yourself forget about it, didn't you? You're afraid to want. You're afraid to need. You don't think you deserve to."

Bruce would have answered, might have answered, if Tony's hand hadn't crept up his body and cradled the back of his neck, toying with the curls of hair that fell below his collar. Instead, he finally released the hand on Stark's upper arm where he'd instinctively grabbed for purchase and let it rest softly on Tony's hip, hooking his thumb in the belt loop of his low slung jeans. (_He's actually touching me even if he doesn't realize it progress this is progress_)

"Just say the word. Anything you want. Your room is right there. _God_, think how _good_ it would feel, the weight of my body pressing you into the mattress, where I could touch you everywhere. You can almost feel it, can't you? My hands _all over you_, the way nobody has touched you in so long…"

"Too long." Banner's voice had lost all its strength. He sounded hazy and a million miles off, and being wedged between Stark and the wall was the only thing holding him up. If it weren't, he had it on good odds his knees would have buckled right about then. Tony rested his hand on the wall on his further side, and, being taller, giving Bruce the added bonus of forcing Tony's thigh tighter against him. He was not at all oblivious to the way the other man pressed against it and was struck by how intimate a position they were in. (_would be if we weren't standing against a wall_)

Tony walked his fingers teasingly down Bruce's chest, stopping at the button of his pants. "Say yes. That's all you have to do. Say yes." (_Because I don't want you to know I want this as bad as you do_)

"Tony… _god_." Chemicals. Adrenaline. It was all that was in Banner's mind and not remotely in the scientific sense. It was completely visceral, physical, _violent_ the chemicals controlled him and consumed him and his thoughts if he was even still thinking at all of all the ways in which Tony would torture him and make him ache, for hours if he felt like it, taking him THISCLOSE to the edge how many times before pulling him back and then throwing him off just when he thought he was safe, just like he'd shoved him against the wall. And he wanted it. He needed it. Yes, god yes, _god yes _and thank you he needed it _so damn bad_ because it hurt, it literally _hurt_ now and all he could process was pressure and heat and proximity and friction and he loved being talked to like this, always had, how the hell had Stark known that and if he kept talking he might just be able to talk him off without touching him and –

He felt the button of his pants start to slide through the buttonhole but not quite make it, and _please_ Tony, _please_. "Come on, Banner" (_Come on, say it, break, for both of us, please_) and Stark bit him so hard it was probably going to leave a very visible and distinctive mark in a completely inexplicable place but the only thing he wanted was for him to do it again. He felt hot, scalding inside and out and he'd never wanted anything more _ever_ than he wanted Tony's hands on him. "Tell me you want it." Tony turned his hand so the tips of his fingers just grazed the other man's length and he was so close, too close, and not close enough. "Wouldn't take much at all, would it?"

"No." One word, softly spoken, tremolo, all the meaning in the world.

Stark turned his head and shifted, searching for the other man's eyes which were downcast at first, then flashing and meeting his and there was something feral in them, something raw and complex that drew him in and looked like… like nothing he had ever seen (_the river after a rain_) but still instinctively _knew_.

Then there was a tug rush spin falling shoulders hitting the wall thud jolt what?

Banner was looking at him with that impish, devilish smile and he wanted to be mad, he really did want to be mad or at very least frustrated but there was no way, no way in this world or any other that he could be because he was still trying to clear his head and that _smile_, the way he smiled, a little laughing a little sorry…

"You forgot two important details, Stark. First, I'm a physicist and _you_ have been leaning on _me_ this entire time which means _I_ had the leverage and second, I have pulled myself back from much more precarious states of being than you could ever put me in." He was looking at Tony with _that look, _soft around the fire in his eyes. "But it was really hard though. Really. I mean it."

Tony raised his eyebrows, shook his head, cracked his neck, sighed heavy, shaky, bit his lower lip (_which he doesn't know he does_) "That's not the only thing hard. Or mean." And then he did smile because really. _Really_.

As Banner took a couple steps toward his room, not trying to hold back the smile which was now a full fledged smug grin, he spun on his heel, facing Tony and spelled it back for him, visually, just in case he hadn't understood: stance, thumb, pivot and… shrug. Easy. "You wanted to see what I'd do."

Stark snapped his tongue against the roof of his mouth and raised an eyebrow. "Well played sir. Well played."

"Hold that thought… about the play, I mean." He was standing with both hands behind him leaning against his door, rocking back on his heels. He looked almost boyish, the smirk still there but the bravado gone. "It's late, I'm tired and I… have something I have to take care of."

He spared Tony his dignity by closing the door before he could see him clench his teeth or hear the muffled whine in the corridor.

Stark, 2 – Banner, 1


End file.
